I was a child once, sitting in a tree. I was a child of eight or ten or so, enjoying the evening view, and sitting in my tree. I thought it was a wonderful view, my tree upon a hill, I could see the L.A. basin and all the twinkling lights. It was a gorgeous, sweet, clear evening, not a speck of smog had come that day. I sat there quite a while.
A tiny plane rose up. Above, a commercial jet pierced the dancing currents. I watched and watched and began to fear. Surely it could not be? And then, it surely could. My throat rose to the yell, but I knew it could not be heard. The cartoon flash broke into sparklers and chunks, a tail this way, a fuselage that; a small sound came long after. I knew I’d seen people die. I watched as the pieces fell, praying they would land free.
As fast I could I ran to tell my mom, who at first failed to believe; but finally then, the TV confirmed 79 were dead.
Strangely, I was never afraid of airplanes. I tried my sad tree one more time, but not after that. I decided at that young age, that the tree was too fragile for my weight.
Yet, it still bore peaches.
For two weeks the debate has been furious over whether Hillary Clinton should be offered the job of Secretary of State, and then, as to whether she should accept. I found my self unable to have an opinion. I had compartmentalized my thoughts. Finally, the key to the box came last night. It’s a touchstone of my life, and has served me many times. I found I had harbored an opinion all along, but lost the vehicle for expression.
I trusted her to be president, and I trust her to make this decision. All the rest is broken, the causes were there to see.
If I want peaches, I must train my viewpoint to the tree. Then, when it is stronger, I will have my view again.
I Own My Vote, PUMA, The Denver Group, Just Say No Deal
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Grab and Keel 